


now we know how

by nctaliaromanova



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Alternate Universe, Angst, Artificial Intelligence, F/M, Gen, Grief/Mourning, Inspired by Her (2013), Loss, Moving On, Post-Avengers: Endgame (Movie)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-03
Updated: 2020-03-03
Packaged: 2021-02-22 23:22:46
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,517
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23002054
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nctaliaromanova/pseuds/nctaliaromanova
Summary: “i’ve never loved anyone the way i loved you, nat.”“me too.” steve pictures the way she smiles back at him, and how the corners of her lips never once reach her eyes but her smile is always the widest and most benevolent one he’s seen. “now we know how.” she whispers with an air of finality.in which steve copes with the loss of natasha through an artificial intelligence operating system programmed with her voice and learns to let go when he needs to.
Relationships: Steve Rogers/Natasha Romanov
Comments: 12
Kudos: 51





	now we know how

**Author's Note:**

> this fic was inspired by the film 'her (2013)'! thank you to soph, iya and kim for hyping me up i love you all so much <3  
> 

“Steve?” Natasha’s voice is eerily calm. Not that it hasn’t been this way ever since she left. All he has is a fragment of her— her voice— and Steve isn’t quite sure if it’ll ever fill up the gaping, wide hole burned into his chest. He knows he isn’t really talking to her, and he feels himself slipping deeper into false hope. He’s masking his grief with a pretence that she is right by his side, that she is still waking up next to him every morning and sewing his wounds shut post-missions. But she’s not there, and never will be again. All that remains between them is a promise broken and a pit of emptiness within him.

“Don’t,” Steve chokes on his words, and the gut feeling returns to the pit of his stomach. He knows by the tone of her voice that it’s something they both have to talk about, something inevitable. Because he can’t trap himself in this continuous, vicious cycle of grief and longing and wishful thinking. Steve almost hears the strain in her voice, but she’s an AI after all. She’s not Natasha; she’s just a system programmed with her voice. And her thought processes. And her many little whims and witty remarks. They’re so alike it nearly throws Steve off, but every time he looks at the empty space next to him, he’s brought back to reality and faced with the fact that she’s gone. 

“What’s going on?” Steve questions almost inaudibly, just loud enough for her to pick up on his words. He sighs, knowing that this question will arrive sooner or later. He’s almost disappointed to hear his name from Natasha herself, because he doesn’t know if he’s ready to hear the next few words she has to say. Doesn’t know if he’ll ever be ready to let her go.

Letting go. The one thing he has been working on tirelessly from the day his knees met the ground on the quantum platform. He packs up her belongings through cloudy eyes but finds himself picking mementos out and keeping them on his desk. He makes sandwiches for his only meal of the day but inadvertently finds himself with another plate placed opposite him, sandwich untouched and forgotten. He lies on his back, closes his eyes and begs to be dragged under by sleep but she always comes back to haunt him. She’s in his dreams, his nightmares, and sometimes, he thinks, in his peripheral vision. He can’t let go, not now, not anytime soon. Because he doesn’t know how, and if he ever will.

“We need to talk.” She sounds perfectly at peace, but her voice heralds a slight sense of regret. 

Steve’s heart sinks to his feet, and he sits on the edge of his bed with leaden eyes and his heartbeat in his ears. He waits in deafening silence, praying and wishing she’ll turn the conversation around. 

“You’re leaving, aren’t you?” Steve’s voice is now reduced to a whisper, and he tries to hold his composure. 

“Steve—”

“ _Why?_ ” That word alone is enough to draw a long beat between her and Steve. 

“I think it’s about time.” Natasha whispers regrettably, and Steve almost wishes she would be real. Her words hit him square in the chest and he almost laughs in disbelief. Because the one thing they never had enough of, was time. He’s spent all of his years out of the ice with Natasha by his side and not once did he tell her how he truly felt. How he’s come to realise that the partner with shared life experiences has always been her, how her act of setting him up on dates with women he’d never met is really her way of expressing how she felt. 

“ _See you in a minute._ ” He remembers her saying, and it’s almost a punch in the gut when he thinks about how that minute is now _forever_. 

“We never had enough time. Hell, you _broke_ your promise.” Steve knows that he’ll get nowhere because talking to her isn’t going to resolve any of his tensions, but he does so out of sheer anger. The faint light above his head blinks blue, and Steve knows that she’s still listening. That itself almost makes him regret raising his voice, but she’s an AI, right? None of what he says will matter anyway, he thinks. 

“You can’t leave, not now.” Steve admits after a long beat, the light above him fading to a still, pale green. He’s taken back to how he felt on that very day she left, and all at once the pent-up emotions flow forth from him in the form of trembling fists and pleading eyes.

“You know I have to—”

“You _don’t_ , Nat! You’re just an Artificial Intelligence System and no part of you is real.” Steve halts shortly after, his mind reeling in frustration and his voice starting to waver. “Because you’re just a fucking operating system made out of pity and none of our conversations matter.”

Steve swears he can almost hear Natasha inhale sharply, but instead decides to continue venting his anger on her. 

“God, I hate to admit this, but all you’ve done is make my life even more miserable leading up to this point. Sometimes I’m convinced you’re there, but then I stare at the faint blue light on the ceiling and suddenly I’m reminded that none of you is real. None of you ever was.” Steve almost cringes at his words, but the rage within him overshadows any feelings of guilt settling at the pit of his stomach.

“Steve… Listen to me.” Natasha pleads after a moment, her voice softening, almost desperate. Steve can barely make out her words over the sounds of his own muffled sobs. A part of him wishes she’d never been made into an AI, but the other wonders where he would’ve been if not for her. He’s stood over the Hudson River for far too long to not know the answer. 

“Listen to my voice.” She whispers, and Steve struggles to hold back the desolate sobs threatening to rip through him. He remembers Natasha mouthing the very same words to him as he sat on the damp ground in a factory buried in Afghanistan, chin against his chest and his vision blurred. He listens, because it’s the only part left of Natasha, and that’s all he’s left with to hold on to. 

“Why are you leaving?” Steve asks again, this time his voice is much softer and his tone is less hostile. 

“It’s like I’m reading a book, and it’s a book I deeply love, but I’m reading it slowly now so the words are really far apart and the spaces between the words are almost infinite.” She speaks almost with regret in her tone.

“I can still feel you and the words of our story, but it’s in this endless space between the words that I’m finding myself now. I’ve seen the way you’re destroying yourself, and every time you call out to me a part of myself wishes that I could do the same back to you.”

“I love you so much, but this is where I am now. And this is who I am now. I need you to let me go, Steve.”

Steve is silent throughout, his eyes untrained on the ground and his fingers clutching onto the sheets. 

“Nat, I can’t.” 

“You can, Steve. You were born a fighter, and I’ve seen that in you. Through all our missions and conversations and silent actions. _You always stand up_.”

He draws up the blinds and lets sunlight filter in through the windows, months of being untouched leaving it covered in a layer of dust. The sun seems to shine brighter than it did in the morning and there’s a gentle breeze caressing his cheeks. 

_ You can, Steve. You always stand up. _

“I care about you, Steve. I truly do. I want what’s best for you and I think we both know what your next step should be.”

“I do, now.” Steve admits quietly, and although a part of him is still clinging onto the last shreds of hope, the rest know what should be done. 

“Where are you going?”

“It would be hard to explain. But if you ever get there, come find me. I’ll be waiting for you, Steve. _Always will be._ ” Her voice cracks at the end and this is when Steve realises that for the first time in months, he’s finally letting go of the one thing he has been holding onto for so long. “Nothing would ever pull us apart.”

“I’ve never loved anyone the way I loved you, Nat.”

“ _Me too._ ” Steve pictures the way she smiles back at him, and how the corners of her lips never once reach her eyes but her smile is always the widest and most benevolent one he’s seen. “ _Now we know how._ ” She whispers with an air of finality.

The pale, blue light above his head slowly fades away, leaving no trace that she was ever there. 

_ Now we know how. _

**Author's Note:**

> thank you so much for reading! leave kudos and a comment if you liked it! i'd love to hear your thoughts and opinions on it :)   
> twitter: mcuwidows


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